


stolen fragments

by pigeonsatdawn



Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, It's all in the details, Realizations, Slow Burn, a bit of introspection, fragments? more like giant chunks, idiot in love, is this considerably stealth dating, stolen date? yes, they spend a day together that's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29606691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pigeonsatdawn/pseuds/pigeonsatdawn
Summary: It’s right, to him, that Kym is smiling, and he knows he’ll do anything within his power to keep it that way.He does not want to think about why he believes this is right.of stolen glances, stolen kisses, and stolen hearts.(alternatively: william hawkes having a life crisis, william hawkes being an idiot.)
Relationships: William Hawkes/Kym Ladell
Comments: 22
Kudos: 45





	stolen fragments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vlaplomb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vlaplomb/gifts).



> Lola, the new LOML, this one's for you! ❤️ thank you so much for being such an amazingly kind and funny friend, a talented musician and blessing my ears, a writer i've always admired and venerated, and for being an inspiration when it comes to torturing Sarah with angst. (perhaps we should still thank Sarah for helping us be friends though 🤪 love you too Sarah)
> 
> this kywi fic is admittedly overdue (i'm so tired of lauki lawd), which is why i put extra effort in it (for once). it's much longer than my lauki one-shots, and i also got Jackie to help me proofread it to make sure it is up to the kywi nation's lane—thank you so much Jackie ily ❤️ (yes, i am low-key scared of the kywi cult, we don't talk about that today)
> 
> uh, i hope you do enjoy this though!

“A re you doing anything tomorrow?”

At first, William doesn’t budge at all, keeping his head buried in his paperwork. Then, “Oi, Willame, I’m talking to you!”

William turns his head to Kym Ladell, all prepared to go home, leaning against her desk. She looks at him expectantly.

He gives her a perplexed look. “Me?”

“William.” Kym pushes herself off the desk, walking over to his, not breaking eye contact. “Do you _see_ anyone else in the office? Are you perhaps,” she makes vague gestures in the air, and William wonders for a second if _she’s_ the one who’s gone mad, “hallucinating, or are you just that oblivious to your surroundings?”

William takes a look around the office which, indeed, is already vacant, spare for the two of them. “Got a little bit caught up in my work,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. “And I just assumed the question wouldn’t be directed at me.”

“Well, it was,” Kym clarifies.

William simply blinks at the Sergeant.

“So?” Kym clicks her tongue impatiently. “You’re supposed to answer the question, dumbass.”

“Oh, right,” he mutters, and Kym cocks her head curiously, narrowing her eyes. “I mean, I’d probably… be doing work, what else would I be doing?”

“Will, tomorrow’s our free day,” Kym reminds.

He blinks several times again. “Oh, that’s tomorrow?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Kym says in exasperation, before moving to place the back of her hand on his forehead. “Dude, are you _okay_? You’re way too out of it. Do I need to babysit you again?”

William rolls his eyes, batting her hand away from his face. “You don’t have to do anything, Kym. I just forgot, is all. Anyways, I’d probably be resting at home. Why’d you ask, anyway?”

“Well, I’m bored, and I figured you wouldn’t be doing much anyway, and you definitely look like you need the entertainment, so… do you wanna go hang out with me tomorrow?”

William blinks for the nth time at her. “What for?”

“Dude, I just told you, I’m bored.”

“I mean, okay… just the two of us?”

Kym rolls her eyes. “Lauren’s going out with Kieran, an early Valentine’s date or something. You think I would’ve asked you if she’s available?” she scoffs. “Besides, you’re also my friend, even if I hate to admit it. So?”

“If you hate to admit it, why admit it to begin with?” William states bluntly. His leg bounces under the table in agitation, for some unknown reason. “Just find something to do yourself. I’m sure it’ll be much better than hanging out with me and having to bicker every other minute.”

“Ughhhhh,” Kym groans, leaning against his desk dramatically. “Come onnnn, stop being so stuck up and let yourself have some fun for once. Do you hate the idea of being friends with me that much?”

William looks at her in wide eyes. “No, that’s… not what I meant, I’m sorry. I’m just—agitated.”

Kym snorts. “Clearly. Which is why, you need to let loose a bit. What better way than hanging out with a friend to clear some of the tension up in your overworked brain?”

_How exactly do I tell you that my brain has been overworking because of you?_

But because she is looking at him with such expectation in her pleading eyes, and because he can never say no to Kym Ladell to begin with, and because he doesn’t quite know when else he can ever spend time alone with her again, outside of their duties and responsibilities, he makes the obvious choice.

“Okay, fine, we can hang out tomorrow,” William relents, like he always does in the end. Even though the Lieutenant can always be seen arguing with the Sergeant, it is not uncommon knowledge that in the end, it is always him to be the first to admit defeat.

He doesn’t like to admit it, but letting down his pride is always worth the victorious smile on her face. When he sees the gleeful expression that grows on her face, the weariness from his overthinking washes itself away, the way the golden hue of the setting sun floods the city’s streets outside that very evening.

He even lets out a small smile on his own that he tries to disguise as plain amusement, when it really is just an unexplainable fondness for the Sergeant who he claims to despise.

It’s right, to him, that Kym is smiling, and he knows he’ll do anything within his power to keep it that way.

He does not want to think about _why_ he believes this is right.

* * *

Kym Ladell has fooled William Hawkes for more times than he can count on two hands, but he finds himself fooled by her yet again that morning. She appears on his doorstep before he even finishes showering, his hair still damp. He isn’t expecting to be pulled out of his own apartment almost immediately when he opens the door, thrust into the harsh winter winds in nothing but a thin white blouse and black trousers.

“See, you’re already ready!” Kym exclaims, ruffling his wet hair, and he gives her an annoyed glare. She merely grins back at him. “Come on, we’re going on a tour around the precinct today.”

“I’m not _ready_ , I literally just finished showering, Kym,” William notes exasperatedly.

“Well, you look very proper, so I assumed you were ready. Sorry I didn’t dress quite as proper as you did, but I wasn’t expecting this to be, you know, formal,” she says sheepishly.

“This—is my casual wear,” William stammers.

Kym scoffs, smirking. “Right. Of course. You just always look like you’re attending a ball. Why am I even surprised?”

“I can go get changed into something simpler, if you’d like,” he offers.

“Since when do you care about what _I’d_ like?”

William freezes for a whole two seconds, and only hopes she doesn’t notice. “It’s called basic courtesy, Kym.”

“Right, because you’re always a well-mannered man to me and all. Anyway, I don’t care what you wear, change if you want to, don’t if you’re too unbothered. Point is, we’re going out today.”

William opens the door to his apartment again. “Why exactly do we have to go on a tour around the precinct, when we already do that during our patrol times?” he points out. “It’s our free day, we should be relaxing, not doing work.”

Kym follows inside, taking a scan of the apartment, perhaps out of plain habit. “I mean, true, but I don’t want to be holed up in your apartment doing nothing either, that’s _boring_ ,” Kym complains. “Sometimes, it’s nice to just walk around with no destination and get lost in the wilderness, you know?”

“Kym, you get lost everyday in our patrol times.”

“Touché,” Kym agrees, pouting a little, which he finds too endearing. “Okay, fine, but I still want to go outside. Maybe we can find something to do.” She eyes the large wall of bookshelves. “Okay, we can get ourselves some books, food for a picnic, go to the park and read. What do you say to that?”

William ponders on it for a while. He thinks it sounds a little too intimate for the two to be doing as friends, but perhaps friends can do such things together as well without it having to be romantic.

“Come on, it’s a pretty good compromise,” Kym pushes. “We do the indoor things you like, outside.”

“Okay, fine,” he sighs, before heading for the stairs. “Stay put, I’m getting changed.”

“Why, are you scared I’ll see you with nothing on?” William turns to see Kym wiggle her eyebrows suggestively, and he rolls his eyes.

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t show my body to just anyone.” He looks away from her, walking up the stairs.

“Ouch, am I ‘just anyone’ now?” Kym calls out from below. “And I don’t even _want_ to see you naked, you idiot!”

William smirks to himself, because Kym Ladell is truly adorable when she’s flustered.

He heads to his room, going straight for the dresser. Without thinking too much about his appearance, he decides to grab a plain white t-shirt and jeans. Maybe, for one day, he doesn’t quite want to be the proper, formal man he always is expected to be; this outing with Kym, and not some of his father’s acquaintance or anyone of high social status, is his chance to be himself. It’s not until he looks at himself in the mirror as he puts his coat on that he realizes, he’s matching with Kym’s outfit for the day.

He doesn’t know what it is about Kym that makes him _want_ to be comfortable with her, but for once, he doesn’t want to think too hard on it.

He wants to give himself the luxury of enjoying one day, with a friend he cares about, without thinking of everything else.

 _Is that too much to ask for? A hangout with a friend._ He shouldn’t have to think too much about it. _Just a friendly hangout; there’s nothing wrong about that._

He shoves his heavy hands in the pockets of his coat. Satisfied by how he looks, he heads down the stairs, and catches Kym’s gaze lingering on him a little longer than it should, before she clears her throat.

“Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in such a casual fit,” she remarks. He wonders if that truly is all she thought of when she sees him, but he reminds himself not to think too much of things.

A friendly outing. That is all this is, and he shouldn’t push it to be more than it is.

“I suppose that now you consider me as a friend, you get to see me in jeans,” William jokes lamely, but Kym laughs at it anyway.

“You look terrible in them, by the way,” she teases, because that’s what Kym always does—and William will never have a problem with it, because he likes Kym the way she is.

 _As a friend, of course,_ he reminds himself, his fingers twiddling inside his pocket with much pressure.

It’ll be too selfish of him to ever admit he likes her as anything more.

* * *

“Genuine question, because I really am curious,“ Kym quips, skipping on the steps to the bookshop, while William watches her with mild amusement at how she can’t seem to walk still. “Those endless shelves of books—do you read _all_ of those?”

“I try to read all of them,” William shrugs. “But if I lose interest in them, I stop reading.”

“And how many of those books do you actually finish reading?”

“Say, three-fourths?”

“Damn,” Kym muses. “You really must have no life, huh?”

William rolls his eyes. “Reading is _nice_ , you know. How do _you_ spend your time, exactly, if you consider such hobbies lifeless?”

“Like I said, I like getting lost in the city,” Kym shrugs. “Sometimes I bring my camera with me, take shots of pretty places. And more often than not, I discover good food along the way, on the street stalls.”

“That does sound fun,” William admits. He doesn’t have much time for such adventurous activities, and as much as he wants to try them out, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get the chance to. He doesn’t even think he _deserves_ to experience such leisure moments.

“You should try it out sometime, you know,” Kym tells him earnestly. “It’s a nice way to just… let off tension, especially for someone like you who always has to think. I’d drag you around, but today you look like you’d faint if you walk more than a few miles, so I won’t force you.”

“Do I?” William chuckles gently with the breeze. “It must be really bad if you’re actually becoming considerate to me.”

They arrive at the bookshop, and he holds open the door for Kym to come in, the bell jingling as he does. “You better appreciate it,” Kym remarks, “because I won’t be as kind to you all the time.”

“I don’t doubt that,” William laughs again. For someone who frustrates the living daylights out of him, she sure does make him laugh a lot. “Thank you, though. I promise, after I get a good night’s sleep, I’m back to making your life a living hell.”

“And truly, I await the day,” Kym smirks.

The two of them make their way further inside, eyes looking around the room for the books they want. Kym heads over to the romance section, and William watches her with curiosity, while she scans the shelves. Not long later, she pulls out a book, and after checking its summary, she walks back to him.

“That… quick?”

Kym shrugs. “We don’t have all day, and I’m satisfied by what this book has to offer.”

“What is it about, anyway?”

“Steamy romance, of course.”

William chokes up. “I–I never thought you’d be interested in such… literature.”

“Why, is ‘such literature’ of lesser merit compared to the ones _you_ consume, sir?” Kym says, altering her voice to imitate him, though of course she sounds nothing like him. It brings an amused scoff out of his lips, anyway. “I’m sorry that your bland ass can’t stand this heat, which is all the good stuff,” Kym says haughtily.

“I just don’t find any pleasure in reading intricate tellings of such carnal activities,” William rolls his eyes.

“Maybe you just don’t have the imagination for it.”

William starts coughing again, and Kym doesn’t even pay him any mind. “Seriously, fictional books teach you a _lot_. I know that you probably spend your life reading textbooks or whatsoever—“

“I read fiction, too, you know.”

“Oh?” At this, Kym’s eyes brighten. “Tell me, what stories do _you_ read of?”

William looks into her hazel eyes, and somehow he can’t bring himself to tell her the truth—even if it isn’t anything to be ashamed of, the prospect of discussing _romance_ with her is not something he wants to face at the moment, because he knows she is someone he _can’t_ have. His hand clenches into a fist inside his pocket, and he plasters a plain smile on his face.

“Of anything. I particularly enjoy crime and mystery books,” he shrugs casually.

Kym sighs in exasperation. “We’re _police officers_ , and you still find crime books interesting? Is our paperwork not enough entertainment for you?”

William simply snorts in amusement, but does not give her a reply, before heading off to the nonfiction shelves.

“Are you really going to be reading _nonfiction_ in your time off?”

“Is there anything wrong with nonfiction?” he counters, not looking at her, who he can literally feel following him closely, pestering him like a leech, but he doesn’t quite mind the presence.

“No, it’s just—well, I don’t find entertainment in nonfiction,” she admits. “Like, what’s so interesting about, I don’t know, biology? Like what does learning about _plants_ help with your life?”

William shrugs. “I guess it just helps to be informed,” he says honestly. “Doesn’t hurt to know a few facts about nature, you know, if you ever get stranded in the forest, especially because you have a penchant of getting lost wherever you go.”

“Ideally, that sounds great, but unless you’ve a brain to remember all that knowledge, reading that many books of nonfiction is practically useless,” Kym argues.

“Well then I guess you just choose which facts to study, do you not?” William heads to a shelf of philosophy books, which brings an even more foul expression On Kym’s face.

“And out of all the things you choose to study, you choose _philosophy_?”

William takes a book out of the shelf. “I like philosophy,” he states simply. “I find it interesting.”

Kym gapes at him, before eyeing the book on his right hand. “Did you seriously pick out a book that’s written by someone sharing the same name as you? That’s very pretentious.”

William rolls his eyes. “I have a common English name, I can’t help that many people own the same name as I do.”

“You’re just as common of a man, really,” Kym mutters, shaking her head.

At that, William lets out an amused smile. He doesn’t refute the statement, because of course, it’s true—there’s nothing special about him. He’s just a boring old Lieutenant who prioritizes his work above all else; he barely has a _life_ of his own, one that Kym so freely lives.

And perhaps that’s why she is such a fascination to him—because she is so uncommon, because she’s so loud yet in a way that makes him want to listen more to the siren, so bold in a way that keeps his eyes entranced on the spectacle, so different that she stands out among everyone else, and so confident in being herself that it makes him want to dream.

He has never known a woman quite like Kym Ladell, and he has never been more pleased to know her, even if as coworkers, or as friends.

* * *

William Hawkes will never understand how one can have such a bottomless infatuation for a mere fruit, one which he’s suddenly cradling with his right arm. Another thing he doesn’t understand is:

“Why the fuck are there so many fruit stands in Ardhalis?” he mutters under his breath, and it causes a hearty laugh from Kym Ladell, who skips around with the bag of books in hand.

“It’s so cathartic to hear you curse,” Kym marvels. “Like, who knew you’d ever use such filthy words in your pristine mouth, ever?”

William rolls his eyes, contemplating on smashing the watermelon on her face. (He’s just annoyed with the watermelon, really. It’s heavy as hell.) “You’ve seen me curse before, Kym.”

“Well, yeah, but you were genuinely mad, and that’s not fun to watch,” Kym retorts. William doesn’t let the memory of him screaming at his brother dwell too much on his head, and he’s grateful for the distraction that is their arrival at the sandwich stall. “What kind of sandwich do you want?”

“I can buy one for myself, just order yours first.”

“No, you have to make sure my baby watermelon stays put,” Kym states defiantly. “Now, what do you want?”

“ _This_ is a _baby_ watermelon?” William gapes at her exasperatedly. “Then how heavy are _regular_ watermelons?”

“Well, that’s a pretty big one, to be honest,” Kym says, scratching the back of her head. “A big baby, if you will, but watermelons are babies all the same. Anyway, I need you to keep the love of my life safe—“

“This thing is _inanimate_ , Kym, what the hell—“

Kym has already turned her back on him, talking to the food vendor, and William sighs. _Oh, the things I have to put up with for you._

While waiting for Kym to order their food, William switches the watermelon over to his left arm, and watches idly as Kym continues to converse with the food vendor. He can’t quite hear what they’re saying, yet he admires the way she opens up easily with anyone, talking with everyone comfortably without a hint of doubt. Not that he doubts everyone he sees—but he’s always too used to being reserved, that he doesn’t allow himself the comfort of making… _friends_ , keeping relationships solely as acquaintances and never further.

Even Kym Ladell being a _friend_ of his is too high of a relationship to be having with her.

And yet… he cannot help but want more.

Kym is already walking back to him, trying to balance two coffee cups and two sandwiches in two hands, the bag of books slung over her left wrist. William winces as she stumbles, nearly falling on the pavement.

He extends his free arm to her. “Why are you so clumsy?” he sighs, shaking his head. “Give me one of the coffee, at least.”

Kym shakes her head. “Just make sure my baby’s—“

“Your baby is safe in my arms, Kym,” William wraps his right arm around the watermelon, tugging it close to his chest, and uses his left hand to support the weight of the fruit. He turns out his right hand to her, and says, “Just hand me the coffee. We can’t have a picnic if you drop all the food and drinks.”

“Fine,” Kym huffs, but she lets out a small grin, handing him the coffee. “C’mon, let’s go to the park.”

William allows himself to smile as he watches her bounce slightly in her steps. He does not understand how she can always find happiness in the smallest of things, but the sight delights him, so he doesn’t question it, simply choosing to enjoy the moment for as long as he can.

* * *

William can tell that Kym is stealing glances at him all throughout their walk to Nightingale Park, but he isn’t too sure why. After a while of her walking around eggshells (almost literally, because she’s all but dancing in delirium as she walks, and he wonders why exactly won’t she walk like a normal person), she finally asks: “Okay, how have you been?”

He gives her an eyebrow raise. “Are you actually trying to be civil with me?” he asks, suspicion lacing his tone. “Since when are you curious about my wellbeing?”

“I don’t like silence, so let’s taaaaalk,” she drawls, “and, I’m concerned since you seem to require the concern, yet no one seems to be giving you that concern.”

William’s face falls a little at her statement, but he forces a smile anyway. “You don’t have to worry about me, Kym. I’m all good, it’s always been like this, and I’m quite used to it already.”

“You _shouldn’t_ be used to it,” she counters, and William looks at her in slight surprise. “You don’t have to handle everything yourself, you know. We—Lauren and I—we’re here for a reason. It’s hard, we know, and you _do_ need to do your responsibilities, but you don’t have to do it _alone_.”

William is touched by the sentiment, but he doesn’t show it, instead scoffing. “Yeah, you can help me by being a good sergeant and not stirring up chaos in the precinct when you should be working,” he notes.

Kym rolls her eyes at him. “I always do my work on time, and they’re always of impeccable quality,” she points out, “and yet you’re out here bashing me still.”

“I don’t mean the quality of your work is bad, I mean you’re so… loud and rambunctious that it distracts _other_ people from doing their work,” he argues. The truth is more like it distracts _himself_ from work—because he always has a sensitive perception when it comes to the Sergeant.

He thinks Kym’s quite aware of this, because she says: “You’re literally the only one complaining.”

_What a call out, honestly._

“It’s _my_ responsibility to keep the precinct in line, Kym,” William argues anyway, “and it’s supposed to be half _yours_.”

Kym pauses, thinking it over for a while. Then she huffs the way she always does, with her cheeks puffing out, and William quite wants to reach out and pinch her cheeks, but he stops himself. “Fine,” she grunts, “maybe I’ll lessen the craziness… when you’re around.”

If he’s to be completely honest, William will much prefer if she doesn’t lessen the craziness, because lately it’s the only thing that takes his mind off… all the things that are happening within his own household, his life. He regrets even suggesting it in the first place.

He doesn’t want to think about his situation today, so he changes the topic: “How about you, anyway? How are you, really?”

“Huh?” Kym snaps her head to him with wide eyes, and he thinks he can drown in her hazel eyes for hours if he has the time. “Of course I’m fine,” she says as her eyes crinkle and the corners of her lips turn up in an innocent smile. It’s a sight indeed—but one way too familiar, one Kym Ladell always does.

“You know, if you want to—as you said—be a friend, you need to open up to me, too.”

“What do you mean?” Kym asks, blinking innocently, but he is sure she’s well aware of what he means, that she just doesn’t want to open up, the way he doesn’t allow himself to.

“You think I don’t know that you’re repressing something yourself?” William gives her a solemn look. “You always avoid talking about yourself, even simply when speaking of your own opinions and values.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, that’s why,” Kym shrugs with a slight shake of the head.

William sighs. “I’m not… forcing you to open up, of course,” he explains himself, “but we are here for you too, you know. You’re no less important than Lauren or I am, Kym.”

For a while, they look into each other’s eyes, not breaking eye contact. It’s so… strange, he thinks, to be looking at Kym with such a serious expression—and so intense, and yet he doesn’t want to look away.

He doesn’t know when else he can look at her this intensely, enjoying the way gold fractures and lands on her iris, lighting up her warm eyes and warming his insides with a feeling so calm and ethereal.

He doesn’t know when else he can hold such eye contact with her without his heartstrings pulling on his ribs, compelling him to look away.

Kym smiles, and he realizes it instantly, even before she actually does: that she will look away, because that is the most she’ll let him see inside of her. “Of course,” she brushes off, like she does every time he tries to be real with her, “I’m the _most_ important one of our trio, if anything. Without me, you two will be just a bunch of sleep deprived officers who don’t know how to take care of yourselves and have fun in your lives.”

She proceeds to walk off, and he’s left behind, watching her as she skips with a slight rhythm in her steps. He chuckles to himself—because she’s not wrong, and she rarely ever is.

He wishes she could confide in him, the way they talked under the streetlamp that night, when she witnessed the most raw of his emotions. The way they talked, human to human, and how for once, he actually feels comfortable in letting someone know how he really feels, how much it _hurt_ to be alone.

But he knows he cannot get too comfortable with her. He knows it will lead to nothing but an unattainable need for her, one that will only put him through more of a quandary in the future.

Where does the coast of casual friendship end, and where does the deep blue conundrum of romantic attraction begin? As much as he wants to test the waters, he knows he’ll only be dragged in the whirlpool, beyond his control.

And he needs to be in control. His life, his job, his circumstances won’t allow otherwise.

He should be thankful, then, that Kym has decided to keep her boundaries closed with him. He should be.

_Friends. That’s all that we are, and that’s all we can be._

He clenches his free hand—the one not holding the coffee, the one under the watermelon—into a fist. _Remember. Remember, William._

* * *

It takes Kym Ladell no less than ten minutes to give up reading, instead opting to lie with her back on the mildly damp grass, wet from snow, as her eyes flutter close under the striking sun. He lets his gaze linger on her for a moment, and turns back to his book before he gets lost in thoughts of her—or worse, before she notices.

It is not until she speaks up that he notices she’s been looking at him while he read: “Are you, perhaps, ambidextrous?”

“Whatever gives you the impression?”

“I’ve never seen anyone hold a book with their right hand and flip with their left before,” she points out. “And I think I’ve seen you writing with your right hand, so I doubt you’re actually left handed.”

“Does it make that much of a difference, which hand I read with? It’s just to hold the book, anyway.”

Kym shrugs. “I suppose you’re not wrong,” she mutters. Not even a minute later, she sits up. “Okay, tell me what it is about that philosophy book that’s so interesting.”

“You really can’t stand a minute without speaking, can you,” William groans.

“The whole point of hanging out is to, you know, spend time with friends. Socializing,” Kym argues. “So of course I’ll speak to you.”

“You suggested reading books, Kym,” William reminds. “Besides, we don’t _have_ to talk when we’re hanging out, you know. Sometimes enjoying each other’s presence is good enough.”

“So you enjoy my presence?”

William blinks, realizing what he just said, and clears his throat. “When you’re quiet, sure,” he says, only hoping he’s not blushing upon being caught red-handed. Kym doesn’t tease him more, so he thinks he’s not.

“Well unfortunately for you, I don’t enjoy your presence when you’re quiet,” she retorts instead, and William lets out a heavy sigh.

“You’re saying you prefer it if we argued every minute, more than if we both stay quiet and enjoy this fine, fine day with our books and coffee?”

“Yes, that is _exactly_ what I’m saying, _Willame_ ,” Kym rolls her eyes. “Get on with it already. Now, tell me what the book is about, and maybe I’ll understand why you like to read books that teach you how to _think_ , which I think you do enough already to still have to learn more about it.”

“Philosophy’s a little more than that,” William counters, and Kym’s eyes narrow, like she’s already about to fall asleep from hearing him speak so seriously about such a boring topic. He’s tempted to laugh, but he fakes offense instead. “You asked, Kym.”

She doesn’t say a word, simply giving him a deadpan stare.

“Alright, I’ll try not to make it boring,” he says with an eye roll.

“Doubt that’s possible, but go ahead,” Kym remarks under her breath. He spares her a glare, before clearing his throat.

“Philosophy’s a bit more on… ways to think about life, rather than just ways to think,” he explains. “You know when you get existential, and you ask questions like, ‘what is the meaning of life?’”

Kym snorts. “Yes, and how people die trying to solve the question, instead of living the life itself.”

William smirks at the comment. “You’re not wrong,” he admits. “In fact, this movement, pragmatism, focuses on the importance of the practical applications in philosophy.”

“Which are…?”

“Decision making. So basically, it’s where you assess… things, truth, beliefs, related to their importance in your life.” Kym only blinks, so William continues, “For example, as you said, some people try to solve the question, ‘what is the meaning of life?’. For you, it probably isn’t so practical, as it doesn’t actually give your life meaning, so you wouldn’t ponder too much about it. For some others, the pursuit of that meaning is what matters to them, and so they do.”

“So basically, it’s just to explain why people do different things,” Kym says blankly.

“More or less,” William only shrugs. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, of course, but that is one of the phenomenons explained by the pragmatist movement.”

“Okay, but what is so interesting about that?” Kym asks yet again, curious. “It’s just the explanation of, y’know, a thought process.”

“Well, that’s the thing. It’s _one_ thought process, among many others,” William explains, “it may not be accepted by everyone. And according to what you believe and how you see the world, you make different decisions, and you pretty much live your life differently. Though this, of course, is my personal philosophy as well.”

“Well, are you looking for a life change or something?” Kym asks, raising an eyebrow. “At this age?”

“Hey, what’s wrong with my age?” William narrows his eyes at her, but she lets out a loud guffaw, and his irritation dies as quick.

“Nothing,” she lies with a grin, that he can’t even be bothered to argue further. “Seriously, though. You look like you’d be the last person to, you know, challenge your views of the world.”

“I don’t think I’m changing the way I live anytime soon,” William admits. “But I am curious as to why other people live the way they do. One can dream, anyway.”

The truth is, he thinks of the time she asks him about what he values more way too much for his own good. He wonders whether there is truth in pragmatism—that if every decision he makes is based on what he values, then truly it is as she says: that he values his duty more? Or worse, values his _guilt_ , his father’s expectations, more than the people around him?

Then he thinks of the time she tells him to let go of his grudge against his brother, and he ponders—is this feeling of resentment towards his brother worth the sacrifice of a happiness he can possibly have with someone he genuinely _cares_ about?

How do you decide which one is worth more than the other? Is that part of the predicament not accounted for by the philosophy, and is purely up to nature and nurture?

He has too much questions, too little time to think of it all—and he is way too scared his feelings will consume him before he comes up with an optimal decision.

He looks down, staring at the hand on his lap with a heavy sorrow.

 _It’s too late, anyway,_ he thinks in vain. He’s chosen the approach that is practical in its most literal sense—but realizes too belatedly that maybe, just maybe, he’s miscalculated the benefits and losses of his decisions.

He has fallen for Kym Ladell against all rational thought, and it’s only pointless to deny a truth he feels so deeply in his chest.

* * *

“You know, I know you play the piano,” Kym notes, “but I’ve never actually _watched_ you play.”

The sun is setting, its rays creating a halo on the crown of Kym’s head. _If only she’s the angel she presents herself in,_ William thinks with a sigh. The only way to ever accurately describe Kym is as the devil’s reincarnation, and even that sounds like too nice of a title for her.

She is so much more dangerous than any devil can ever be, and no one can fuel the fires of his desire like she.

“It’s not that interesting, my piano playing,” William shrugs, opening the door to his apartment, before letting Kym walk through. “I play as a hobby, not quite to perform.”

“I wanna see you play, though,” she says pleadingly, frowning at him.

William shakes his head adamantly. “Really, there’s nothing to see.”

“Come _on_ ,” Kym whines. “It’s not like I’m asking you to share all your life’s secrets, I just want to watch you play the piano, you don’t even have to do much other than what you like doing!”

“It’s… personal, Kym,” he says with effort, running a hand through his hair, which he’s sure is way too messy and will definitely give his father a heart attack if he ever sees it, so he’s quite glad he’s far from the old man at the moment. “When I play, I… pour out too much of my emotions.”

“And I told you, it’s alright to let out some of those emotions to me. I’m your friend, and I care,” Kym argues.

But even if she wants to believe so—playing the piano is an act too awfully vulnerable to him, something that renders him raw, that once he plays it…

He shakes his head yet again, saying nothing. He doesn’t know what else he can say. That playing the piano for her is like giving his all to her? That he doesn’t want her to see him in such agony over his perpetual inner conflict, over her?

“Bruh,” Kym groans. “I came all the way here to watch you play the piano, and you’re not even going to do it?”

“Maybe you should’ve mentioned it when we were at the park, so I could’ve walked you home instead,” William retorts.

“You think you can get rid of me that easily?”

William stares at her hard for a few seconds, before sighing heavily. “I can’t play, Kym.”

“Then what’s the piano for, decoration?” Kym scoffs.

“I mean, I can’t play right now.”

“Why not?”

_Because I can’t bear to see my hands._

“My wrist hurts from carrying your baby watermelon,” he says instead.

Kym’s eyes widen immediately. “Oh my god, you need to get it treated!” She reaches out for his hands, but he shoves them further down his pockets, taking a step back so she can’t touch him.

He craves for it—and yet, he knows he’ll only get addicted to her gentle touch, and it’s something he cannot indulge on. He has to restrain himself—he’s done so well so far, he can’t crumble now.

“I’m fine, Kym,” William chuckles slightly. “It’s just a sore wrist, it’ll get better soon.”

Kym narrows her eyes at him, but she eventually drops it. “Ugh, okay, fine. I don’t trust you to take care of yourself, honestly, but I guess I feel a little bad, after forcing you to do so much just because I didn’t want to spend my day off alone.”

They both seem to realize what she just said at the same time, and William feels bad for rejecting her request for him to play. Kym is already looking away feeling flustered, but William calls out, “I… have an idea.”

“Huh?” She looks at him shyly, and though William has seen her caught off-guard before, he cannot help but find the sight so… captivating.

“Can you play the piano?”

Kym blinks at him, clearly taken aback by his words. “N–no,” she stutters. “If I did, I wouldn’t be so amazed by the fact that _you_ can.”

“Well, is there any song you’d like to learn?”

“I—“ Kym pauses, then her jaw hangs open slightly, the corners of her lips turning up knowingly. “Why, are you going to _teach_ me?”

“Well,” William shrugs, “since I have one working hand, I can teach you to play the other hand. And we… can play together.”

Kym stares at him in awe. “Seriously? You’d teach me how to play?”

The expression on her face is all too ethereal for him to even want to resist. “Why not?” he lets out a tiny smile of his own. “I doubt it’d be too hard, considering how dexterous you are.”

“Having a good aim doesn’t make me proficient with my _fingers_ ,” Kym argues. “I literally have no idea how the piano works.”

“Well, you’re a quick learner, you’ll manage.” William walks over to the piano, Kym following closely, and he sits on the left side of the bench. He signals her to take a seat next to him. “You’ll be playing the melody, and I’ll accompany you with the chords.”

“Do you have a song in mind?” Kym asks, sitting down as he says, before playing a few notes randomly.

“There’s this fairly easy song to learn.” William starts playing the melody, and Kym watches his hand intently.

Kym places her hands on the octave above his, imitating his hand. “Okay, I can do this,” she chants to herself as she plays the first few notes, before she misses her fingering in the third bar. “Oops.”

William chuckles lightly. “It’s okay, you’re doing great. Just remember which fingers to use when pressing each key.”

“I can’t believe you’ve been making me _learn_ all day, when I’m supposed to be enjoying my free day,” Kym comments, repeating the first few bars to familiarize with the melody.

William clicks his tongue. “The first time, you asked. The second time, I asked, and you agreed.”

“Can’t argue with that,” she mutters, and he smirks in satisfaction. It’s not often that Kym admits defeat in an argument, and he makes sure to savor every time it happens.

They spend some time on getting Kym to master the first verse, and by the time they finish, the sun has completely submerged, and in its place, the bright crescent moon. “Okay, okay, I think I got this,” Kym says. “You try playing your thing.”

“Okay,” William glances at her. “Three… four…”

They begin playing [the piece](https://youtube.com/watch?v=w7oATuVHRA8) together, William playing the chords with his right hand, Kym playing the melody with hers. Kym pauses and makes mistakes here and there, but William waits for her to find the notes with patience, looking at her encouragingly whenever she steals a hesitant glance his way. He cannot help but lift the corner of his mouth in amusement, wondering how it is that Kym Ladell can be so… entrancing, in any form she’s in.

When they finish the verse, Kym smiles to herself proudly. “That wasn’t half bad,” she concludes, jumping out of the seat and turning to look at him with her usual, radiant grin. He gets out of his seat as well, and leans against the piano.

“Eh, it was terribly messy,” William shrugs, “but not bad for a first-timer.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Kym bows with grandeur. Then she adds, “It’s a lovely song.”

“It’s… one of the first songs I’ve ever learned,” he informs her, head ducked. “My… brother taught me how to play.”

Kym’s smile flickers a little. “Ah…”

William’s grip on the piano tightens as he wills himself to remain composed. “You told me to… to let go my hatred for him. I… want to try that.”

Kym blinks, eyes opening wide in surprise.

“You’re right,” William admits, “there are many of my memories that are… shared with him, unfortunately. Before he was the biggest pain in my ass—“ Kym snorts, and he lets out a little smirk, “he was my brother first. He taught me a lot of the things I knew, some of which I still value until today. I don’t want to taint those memories with my resentment.”

The reverence in her face is so much more than William can ask for from her. He wants her to know just how much she means to him, just how big of a part she is in his life. He so badly wants to _show_ her how he makes her feel—

He shouldn’t be feeling these things. _No._ They are _friends_ , and that’s all there is between them.

But how can he deny the glaringly obvious truth that sends his heart down a free fall every time he thinks of her? How can he _look_ at her without thinking, without _wanting_ more and more of her?

And when Kym looks into his eyes with so much emotion, an intense gaze she’s never looked at him with before, straight into the window of his own heart—how can he pretend like all he wants from her is to be her friend? Why does it feel so right to be here, with her, just the two of them, alone, spending a day doing the things they love? What magic does she hold that compels him to pull her close, claim her as his?

It takes all his might to keep up his walls, the ones he’s built over the past decade. He cannot let them waver for her, not after all he’s gone through.

He gives her a forced smile. “This has been a fun day, hasn’t it?” he grits out. “It’s getting dark outside, you should head home.”

He wants to take her home, but he doesn’t trust himself anymore.

He’s gambled for too long around her, letting himself be comfortable with her. He shouldn’t. They’re just friends.

Kym doesn’t say anything for a while.

“Kym?” he asks, concerned. “Are you alright?”

She takes a step towards him, her eyes too sober for herself, and William takes a step back instinctively, except he’s already leaning against the piano. He blinks at her.

She takes another step.

He should run.

Should he? He doesn’t quite want to.

So he stays still, as she takes another step towards him, and he thinks his heart has stopped for a few beats, because he doesn’t hear anything, spare for her footsteps as she approaches, closer, closer to him.

When she is only a few inches apart from him, he stands up straighter, that he towers over her significantly. She looks up at him, still with the same emotion, and he is painfully aware of her: the scent of her shampoo suffocating his lungs, the laser in her gaze piercing his eyes, and yet he would be lying if he said he doesn’t want to drown himself in every other sense she can offer him. He doesn’t know whether he should be panicking from the proximity or worried over her emotional wellbeing.

He finds he doesn’t have time to be worried about either, because her hand is already on the side of his face, pulling him to her, her lips soft against his own.

William freezes under the touch, even if every part of his body burns from her presence.

Before he fully understands what is happening, Kym has pulled away, still looking at him in an unsmiling way. He’s unable to speak, only blinking at her hopelessly, and before he knows it, she’s pulled him down once more, her lips tugging gently at his lower lip, and nothing has ever felt sweeter than this.

With the pressure of a flood out of a broken dam, William proceeds to kiss her back, not hesitating to part his lips, dipping and angling his head, aligning their mouths like puzzle pieces fitting _just right_. Kym reacts just as quick, reaching on her tiptoes to kiss him better, the passion pouring out of her made clear through the way her tongue moves inside of him, against him. His body is trapped against hers as he steadies his body with a hand on the piano, while she keeps him anchored by tugging on his blonde locks; William is utterly prisoner to her, and yet it is everything he’s ever wanted.

His eyes are squeezed shut in his overwhelming desire, that it only registers in him that Kym is crying when he feels the salty tears in their kiss.

He forces himself to pull away.

“Hey, why—why are you crying?” William lifts his right hand to her cheek, wiping a stray tear away.

It takes her a while before Kym lifts her eyes to him again, and when she does, she doesn’t allow him the luxury of staring into her eyes, pulling him down to her again. This time, their movements are not as vigorous, but he can feel her pressed lips tremble against his own, trying to hold back a sob.

She puts her hand inside the left pocket of William’s coat, pulling out his hand and laying it on the piano gently.

She lifts his middle finger softly, holding it under her grasp, and with her thumb and index fingers, twists the golden band around his finger in its place.

William hears his own heart drop.

His eyes flutter close as he lets out a shaky sigh.

“How long?” he chokes out, his voice hoarse. “Have you known?”

“Last week,” Kym breathes out, and he cannot stand the way she barely has a voice. His hand curls into a fist, as it’s been doing the entire day, but Kym’s hand doesn’t budge, resting on top of his fist in a gentle manner.

He wants to pry the ring off his hand so bad, wants to throw everything away if it meant he could have her whole. Maybe if he took it off in the first place, maybe—but Kym knew anyway. She’s known from the start, that there is no future for them, that this will be the last time, even if the ring isn’t there. And he should’ve known better than to let it all happen anyway—what a fool of himself to think that a mere _ring_ can hold himself back from feeling for Kym Ladell.

No chance to be lovers, impossible as friends—he was an _idiot_ for having wanted _both_.

“I’d steal the pretty ring, but I’m terrified of what your father would do if he noticed.”

William doesn’t understand how she still has the nerve to _joke_ when he feels like his heart has just been ripped out of his chest, butchered like a slab of meat.

 _Maybe I’d rather if you stole the ring instead,_ he wants to say. _Come, join my play, where we can pretend that it’s just the two of us in this world, with the aloof manner that graces your daily steps, without thinking, because we don’t need a thought in the world when we feel this strongly for each other._

Instead, he says, “Since when are you ever terrified of anybody?” Maybe he still wishes she could’ve been strong enough to fight for them.

Kym chuckles, and he doesn’t understand how she can be so _good_ at hiding her sorrow, making the smile look so real. “Of course I’m terrified, William. I just don’t let it show.” 

It feels like an invisible arrow through his chest.

She’s always acting like she’s fine, and nobody ever notices—while _she_ notices everything.

“Can I—“ Kym sniffles, the tears still running down her face in an endless stream, and it kills him to know that he’s the very cause of it. She chuckles after, because she always has to laugh, and he wants to yell at her so bad to stop. “I know this is selfish, but… can I at least steal one—one last kiss?”

William doesn’t even have the capability of responding to that, his face flooded with so much pain.

How are they supposed to act like everything’s fine, like they can go back to being friends, when he can’t even look at her without unraveling entirely?

How is he supposed to go to work and see her everyday, knowing that she’s in pain, knowing that the entire reason she’s suffering inside, _alone_ , is because of him?

How can he live without loving her the way he really wants to?

_How do I live without you?_

His right hand rests on the curve of Kym’s neck, and he wants to pull her back to him, to kiss her senseless like there’s no tomorrow—because he might as well not face tomorrow, when he knows too well what’s to come.

But she pulls away before he does anything.

“Kym—“

She shakes her head, letting out an airy laugh, before wiping the tears off her face with her palm. “Never mind, your frown says that it’s probably not a good idea. Y’know, I think we can conclude our friendship outing as successful, given that I’m totally able to read you like an open book now.”

William feels the knives pushing, twisting itself, leaving scars in his chest.

_Friendship outing—_

He’s been _trying_ to keep it friendly all day. He’s been trying, and yet—yet he fails, because he always fails when it comes to Kym Ladell.

He wants to yell at her, blame her for breaking him, for being the one to kiss him—but he knows it’s not her fault more than it is his. _He’s_ the one engaged, after all. He should’ve known better than to let himself fall for someone who isn’t his future wife.

Yet he keeps finding himself with endless affection for the Sergeant, someone who will soon be a nobody in his life. He wants to scream at himself more than he wants to do to her, because like always—

Everything is his fault.

“Unfortunately I won’t be returning what I’ve stolen,” Kym declares, with a grin which even _she_ can’t mask the pain in any longer, “because it was a pretty good memento.”

William wants to scoff, because the situation at hand is entirely too ridiculous, but he finds he lacks the energy to react.

He wants to scream at her that if there’s anything she stole—it wasn’t a kiss, it wasn’t a glance, it wasn’t his time.

She’s taken claim of his feeble heart, and now he’s left with nothing, spare for a hollow chest and a meaningless life.

And then, just like that, Kym is out the door, and he knows she is gone for real. Never again will he see her—not her true self, anyway: the sliver of vulnerability she showed that day she fell into his arms, the time they talked about their pasts under the streetlamp, that tender moment they spent on their way to this very apartment he lives in, when she says— _You’ve never restrained yourself with me._

Gone, all because in the end, he chooses to be selfish. Because in the end, he can never restrain himself when it comes to Kym Ladell. It was foolish of him to even think otherwise.

He lets out a dry, throaty sob before his knees even hit the floor, the tears burning as it drips down his face, his metal ring knocked against the wooden floor deafeningly.

William Hawkes shatters into fragments, completely undone.

**Author's Note:**

> so technically, i never lied *yeets* 🏄🏻🏄🏻 (let's be real none of you trust me anyway)
> 
> for your information, the book Will read was **Pragmatism** by William James; the song they played is **To A Wild Rose** by Edward Macdowell, i chose it because 1. easy to play and 2. Kym is Will's wild rose 🌹
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this (Lola, you especially ❤️👉👈) thank you so much for reading! kudos and comments (of screaming or otherwise) would be lovely ❤️


End file.
